The morning sun cast long, silver streaks across the city as Lunaria walked through the Guild's towering gates. His silver hair flowed freely, the faint glimmer of moonlight reflecting off its strands, catching the light of the bustling courtyard. This time, he was not merely a hunter returning from a dungeon; he was a being who had surpassed the boundaries of what the city could recognize. His level, now stabilized at 403, had granted him the ability to ascend, to claim what he had earned through countless battles.
The Guildmaster, a figure of stoic authority, awaited him in the central hall, flanked by walls lined with hunter insignias and the residual auras of legendary hunters past. He looked at Lunaria with a mixture of awe and respect.
"Lunaria Vale," the Guildmaster began, voice deep and resonant, "your recent accomplishments have shattered every record in Guild history. You have eradicated an entity of abyssal and chaotic origin beyond City Threat Level. The system confirms your level stabilization, and your aptitude surpasses even the highest expectations. You are hereby granted an A-Ranked Hunter's Badge. Wear it with the knowledge that this city now owes its safety to your strength."
Lunaria inclined his head slightly, the faintest curve of acknowledgment gracing his refined, feminine features. He accepted the badge, feeling its weight settle over his chest. It was not merely a symbol; it was a declaration of recognition, a key granting access to trials, missions, and sparring that could finally test him against the S-ranked hunters of the city.
"Your next assignment," the Guildmaster continued, "is not a mission in the field. Instead, you will test your skill against every S-ranked hunter stationed in the city. The trial will be held in the Abaddon Open Field—a stretch of twenty acres designated for large-scale sparring exercises. This will determine your combat proficiency relative to the highest-ranked hunters currently active. It is expected that this will not be an easy task, even for you."
Lunaria's gaze softened, his mind already visualizing the expanse of the open field. The Abaddon Open Field was known for its wide stretches, broken terrain, and occasional energy remnants from previous S-ranked sparring events. It was the perfect stage for an exhibition of skill, a battlefield where a single misstep could be fatal.
As he arrived at the edge of the field, the S-ranked hunters had already gathered. Each one radiated immense power, their presence alone bending the space around them. Ash and Kael stood at the forefront, flanking the others, their eyes bright with excitement and admiration. But as Lunaria stepped forward, the vast expanse before him, the admiration and unspoken bonds he held for these hunters became a weight he could not ignore.
The sparring began with a formal signal from the Guildmaster. The S-ranked hunters moved with deliberate precision, their strikes calibrated for both lethality and performance. Lunaria's movements were no less elegant; he flowed between them like water, sword arcs tracing delicate patterns, every step refined, feminine, and lethal. His skill was undeniable, yet something within him—the deep affection, the admiration he had for the hunters he had trained alongside, for the friends who had saved and supported him—clouded his resolve.
No matter how fluid his movements, he could not bring himself to strike with absolute finality. Every feint, every parry, every dodge was perfect—but tempered. The S-ranked hunters sensed it immediately. Their strikes were measured against him, testing him, teasing him, knowing the weight of his hesitation.
It was then that it happened. Among the gathered spectators, a figure stepped forward—someone who had longed for his hair, for the symbol of his elegance, the pink ribbon he often wore to keep his hair restrained. With a swift motion, faster than anyone could react, the ribbon was pulled from Lunaria's hair. His silver strands tumbled freely around him, cascading like a waterfall of moonlight.
In that moment, Lunaria changed. The subtle restraint that had governed his actions vanished. His movements sharpened, the feminine grace transforming into something terrifyingly lethal. His sword hummed with the energy of Eternal Abyssal Convergence, as if recognizing the surge of uncontrolled focus. Every fiber of his being now radiated raw, refined, and deadly intent.
The S-ranked hunters immediately recognized the change. Ash and Kael exchanged worried glances, understanding the danger that had just awakened. Lunaria did not speak. He did not hesitate. The battlefield itself seemed to bend toward him, the very ground trembling under the weight of potential annihilation.
The sparring that had begun as a controlled trial erupted into chaos. Each movement of Lunaria's sword cut through the air with a soundless precision, arcs of energy following every swing, forming ghostly traces of light and shadow. The hunters scrambled to evade strikes that were faster than perception, their bodies contorting to match impossible angles. Every feint and slash displayed the lethal beauty of feminine precision married to unrelenting force.
Yet even as he moved, there was hesitation—an unwillingness to harm Ash, Kael, and the others fully. That hesitation caused the first injuries. Ash took a slash across his shoulder that bled crimson, Kael's leg was grazed by a deadly arc that left him staggering. Even the others were struck by traces of Lunaria's power, wounds forming almost instantly.
The battlefield fell into a tense, cinematic stillness. Dust, sparks, and residual energy swirled around Lunaria and the injured hunters. Their injuries were minor compared to the scale of his unleashed skill, yet they were enough to cause alarm.
Ash, struggling to his feet, shouted, "Lunaria! Stop! You're going too far!"
Kael, wincing, added, "We… we can handle the trial… we just need you to—control it!"
Lunaria's silver eyes glimmered, calm yet filled with a storm beneath. The ribbon's absence had unleashed the full potential of his power, yet he was restrained by his emotional ties. He hesitated, recognizing their vulnerability, yet the surge of rage and focus pushed him further. His movements became a dance of absolute destruction, his sword arcs leaving trails of silver and black, energy radiating outward, consuming the open field with every strike.
The S-ranked hunters, despite their skill, found themselves retreating, dodging, and countering simultaneously, caught between admiration and fear. Every time Lunaria moved, the feminine elegance of his form betrayed the lethal precision of his strikes. The dichotomy of his nature—beauty and absolute danger—was in full display.
Ash, Kael, and the others eventually forced themselves closer, their own powers flaring to match his energy, their presence the only anchor that could temper him. They took calculated risks, moving into his path, allowing themselves to be caught just enough to draw him back from full berserk. Their wounds, crimson stains across their forms, were proof of their sacrifice.
Finally, after what felt like hours compressed into moments, the combined presence of the hunters stabilized Lunaria's surge. He paused mid-arc, sword suspended in the air, silver hair drifting like a curtain of moonlight. His chest rose and fell, a controlled rhythm returning to his body. The battlefield lay fractured, scorched, and trembling, but the worst had been avoided.
Ash leaned heavily on his sword, looking up at him. "That… that was more power than anyone should hold. You… almost lost yourself."
Kael nodded, though his leg still throbbed. "We couldn't have stopped you if we hadn't come. You're… terrifying, Lunaria."
Lunaria's gaze softened, the storm in his eyes fading. He knelt briefly, tending to minor wounds with precision and care, his movements almost maternal. Every touch, every gesture, was refined, cinematic, and precise. The same grace that had marked him in battle now became a balm, calming those who had risked themselves to anchor his power.
He looked up finally, silver eyes meeting Ash's and Kael's. "I will not let this happen again," he said, voice soft but resolute. "No one will be harmed under my watch. Not by my hand, not by anyone else. Control is absolute, even if the power surges beyond reason."
The S-ranked hunters, though bruised and battered, smiled faintly, admiration and relief mingling. They had seen Lunaria at his most dangerous, his most lethal, yet also his most refined. The lesson was clear: his love, respect, and ties to those around him were both his strength and his restraint.
As the sun dipped lower over the Abaddon Open Field, silver hair flowing, sword at his side, Lunaria stood alone at the center, a vision of lethal elegance, feminine precision, and unshakable power. The A-Ranked badge gleamed against his chest, a symbol not only of rank but of the mastery he had achieved, tempered by the bonds he cherished and the grace that defined him.
The field was silent now, scars of battle etched into the ground, energy dissipating into the atmosphere. But one thing was certain: Lunaria had shown the city, the Guild, and even himself what it meant to wield absolute power while remaining refined, elegant, and human in heart.